


Crosshairs

by t0talcha0s



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol, Canon events and divergence there-from, F/F, Relapse, There's a lot of anger in this one why is that?, mentions of extreme violence and anger, no actual violence but she talks about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3913126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0talcha0s/pseuds/t0talcha0s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's back and haunting and you fear not only yourself, but what it causes you to become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crosshairs

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off my own experiences so if it doesn't fit your ideas or experiences with addiction don't feel like yours are any less real/valid

"I think I liked you better when you were drinking!" Your world halts. You're blinded momentarily with rage, with sorrow, with anger at the sheer nerve of her. Had she not seen the signs, the pain, the tears, the days you woke up surrounded by vodka sinking into your bed sheets. The days you didn't eat because drowning your pain, and anger, and hurt came first. The mess and disrepair your house fell in because you couldn't be bothered to clean it. The pile of cat food festering in your kitchen because why would you bother to feed your pets when you could be pretending everything was any semblance of alright. The sheer amount of attempted projects that got shoved aside because your fingers couldn't properly hit the keyboard with how hard they were shaking, only partially from your drinking. How you couldn't see straight enough to see the tears in your own damn eyes. Did she truly not see? Did anyone even attempt to notice that your drinking was nothing but a lame hope to drown not only your hurt but yourself. How adequately fitting the term "self destructive habit" is, because it did nothing but destroy you. However you were thankful your drunken fumbling hands were too clumsy to allow you to place your rifle to your head. How every smile when drunk was just concealing a throat dying to scream and teeth dying to rip apart everything. How the hands so capable of destroying nations, empires, yourself, kept themselves happy and unclenched at your sides. Did this pitiful wretch truly notice none of that. How dare she tell you that a monster willing to kill gods with its wrath is better then the woman who has slaughtered her wrath to become a god. 

You take a deep breath, calming the storm. She was out of line but she was angry. Your voice of reason keeps your fists from wrapping themselves around her neck. Your vocal cords relax from their willingness to tear her to shreds and your muscles forcibly cease their tensing. You frown gently, as opposed to the snarl that was so willing to come out before. You can't hurt her, you would never. She doesn't deserve pain such as you hold. 

"Jaaane no. Don't say that. I had a problem." Is what releases from your throat, gentle, kind, what you will always want, and what you shall always be perceived as. She deserves your kindness. 

~

The face in the picture is not your own. It is flushing, and happy, and its dangerous, violent teeth are bared in what could be considered a smile, but you know better. You know that monster, that demon, that thing that posed as you for so long. That made your friends laugh and be happy, that thing that charmed everyone to love it while you were trapped, imprisoned, screaming. That creature, that is not, was not you. 

Yet this picture, this monster holds your face, turns its pale, sharp bone structure into an unrecognizable expression of happiness. This monster that seized your body fooled your friends into believing it was you, and captured your life into its maelstrom of horror. You may claim to overcome it, but the demon sits beside you. Trails its hands of dark and cold, harnessing the promise of warmth and supposed happiness, over your cheeks, pulling your mouth up into a smile, and it leads your fingertips to brush against a bottle. Its movement slow and practiced. In the picture you can see it warping you into the person it wants you to be, into the person your friends love and know. It leads hands worthy of terror to grasp the bottle, and harnessing the power of suns you hurl the bottle away from you. It shatters against the mirror by your bed and next thing you know your breath is stuttered and gasping, and your arms are wrapped around your knees, with your head tucked between them. 

The creature remains though, running its hands along your skin, and whispering dangerous truths in your ear. You friends knew the monster, loved the monster. Doesn't it feel so much better to smile without consequence. Wouldn't you prefer to look in the mirror and not have to face yourself? 

It's a monster, a creature, an it, a terror, you remind yourself. Yet it made everyone happy. 

You're a monster, a creature, an it, a terror. You just want everyone, you just want, to be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to start writing happier things my goodness. I promised I would stop writing sad Roxy, what happened to that!?  
> On tumblr at Barefootcosplayer


End file.
